


as the bird reforms

by epilogues



Series: life cycle of a phoenix [2]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Coming Out, First Kiss, Fix-It, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 14:10:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20743493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epilogues/pseuds/epilogues
Summary: The first thing Richie notices about Derry Hospital is that it’s fucking cold.





	as the bird reforms

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't intend on making this a series but i still have a lot of feelings about these two, so here we are! i hope you enjoy!
> 
> also, same warnings as last time - this is canon-divergent, so while there are no real spoilers, necessarily, there's a spoiler warning for, like, this situation not being what happens in canon!

The first thing Richie notices about Derry Hospital is that it’s fucking  _ cold.  _ The pervasive summer heat is nowhere to be found in the long white halls, and Richie finds himself tugging his jacket tighter around himself as he steps into the elevator and presses the button for the third floor.

Three’s supposed to be a lucky number, or at least that’s what Richie’s heard, and God, he hopes it’s true. He could use a bit of luck right now. 

The elevator moves at the pace of Richie’s self-realization. His hands shake. He’s really doing this, he just came out to Bill and now he’s going to come out to Eddie and he’ll have to tell the rest of the Losers sooner rather than later and -

The elevator comes to a shuddering, unsure halt, and the doors creak open. Richie shakes his head a bit to clear it, pushes his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose, and steps out into the post-surgical ward. 

This part he can handle - walking down the hall, avoiding eye contact with everyone that passes, checking the room number Bev texted him just one more time before stopping in front of the door marked 3-143. It’s the other parts, like the one where he’s supposed to lift his hand up and knock, that he can’t bring himself to do. 

Richie absentmindedly toys with the handle of his knife as he stands, almost paralyzed in front of the door. He should be able to do this. He just went and carved their initials into the Kissing Bridge  _ again,  _ not to mention how he came out to Bill. This should be easy; it’s just one knock. Eddie will probably be asleep anyway. God knows he’s on so many sedatives that he’s unlikely to even be coherent on the off-chance that he’s  _ conscious. _

Richie’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out with an apprehensive frown to find that the notification is a text message from Bill.

_ Quit standing around and go talk to him. _

Automatically, Richie whips his head around, still half-expecting to see a red balloon materialize down the hall, to hear a voice like bone-saw on skull whispering, “I know your secret,” but all he sees is normal hospital business.

His phone vibrates again.

_ Sorry, that sounded weird. I’m not watching you or anything, I just know you. _

Richie can’t pretend he’s not relieved as he quickly types,  _ Ik. Going in now.  _

And, much to his own surprise, he actually finds himself knocking on the door. 

Not to his surprise, there’s no answer.

Richie pushes the door open a crack and pokes his head inside. All he can see is the outline of a bed surrounded by a curtain, and he has to take a deep breath and remind himself that  _ Pennywise is dead, It’s not going to be behind there, it’s just Eddie and he’s okay _ . “Eds? You awake?”   


Still no answer except for the soft hum of machinery. Richie nods to himself, muttering under his breath. “Okay. Okay, you got this. He’s not even awake. No pressure.” 

He pushes the door all the way open and steps inside, waiting for the door to fall shut once more with a gentle  _ click  _ before moving forward. Between two makeshift curtain walls lies a bed, and on that bed lies Eddie. His face is bruised and pale and bloody, and it still makes Richie’s heart skip a beat.

“Hey,” Richie says softly, as he pulls up a chair next to Eddie’s bed and takes a hesitant seat. He’s started to shake, just a bit, as he remembers why he’s here and why he’s spent the past twenty-seven years feeling the way he has and how this hospital is just  _ so  _ goddamn cold. “Your mom would flip her shit if she saw you right now, huh? You’re looking pretty rough.”

Eddie doesn’t move. A loose corner of the bandage on his cheek flutters slightly as he exhales. Richie can’t help himself from reaching out, cupping Eddie’s cheek in his hand, and smoothing the bandage down with his thumb. There’s a familiar sense of guilt in his gut, that voice reminding him that he can’t have this, he has no right to take it, but… but what if he can? What if he does? What if, at the very least, he’s allowed just this one moment?

So he doesn’t move his hand away. It’s no small comfort to feel Eddie’s skin warm against his own, to know that Eddie is alive and okay and that he can probably pass this off as just fixing the bandage if Eddie suddenly wakes up. 

“I, uh,” Richie starts, before stopping to clear his throat. “Can I tell you something? I know you can’t hear me, but, uh, honestly, I think that might be the only way I can get this out.”

Eddie doesn’t move. 

“Okay, well, here goes nothing, then,” Richie says, biting his lip and closing his eyes for a moment in a sort of last-ditch hope that he’ll wake up back on the road and find that the past week has been nothing but a wild fucking dream. When he opens his eyes, though, he’s still in the hospital. “Uh, I guess it started when we were about eleven. And… do you remember how Ben always looked at Bev? Or how Bill would look at her sometimes, even when he didn’t realize it? And I guess I just figured I’d start seeing whatever it was they were seeing one day, but then I realized that I’d just been looking at you.”

The A.C. unit under the window kicks into a different gear, and Richie nearly jumps out of his skin, He watches Eddie’s face for a few moments to make sure he’s still asleep before continuing. 

“And I wasn’t - like, surprised, I guess. I think I sort of knew for a long time, hell, fucking Bowers had known, or suspected, at least, for a long time.

“But I couldn’t tell you. I would think about it constantly, like we would be sitting on the hammock and I’d think,  _ I could say it right now.  _ But I never did, and part of me knew I never would. I couldn’t risk anything changing with any of you guys, but especially not you. I couldn’t risk losing you.”   


Richie takes a deep breath, suddenly realizing that he’s on the verge of tears. He’s barely been able to admit half of this stuff to himself in his own private thoughts, and here, now, shaping his mouth around the syllables themselves feels like stepping out of a plane without knowing whether or not you have a parachute.

“And then everything with It happened, and then we all forgot, and… I mean, it was almost like I had to go through the whole thing all over again, you know? And then I was an adult who couldn’t stay in a, uh, in a gay bar for longer than two minutes without almost throwing up out of fear of being seen by someone I knew, and then I was just famous enough to have to keep my mouth shut about it, even to myself.”   


Richie inhales, exhales, inhales again. “And then Mike called. And before It, before anyone or anything else - I remembered you, Eddie.”

One of the monitors next to the bed chimes, almost as if it’s saying, “Beep beep, Richie! Stop rambling! Get to your fucking point already!”

For once, Richie actually stops talking. He stays silent as he gently takes his hand away from Eddie’s face and moves it down to wrap loosely around Eddie’s hand. The hum of machinery seems to get louder.

Finally, Richie starts talking again, opening his mouth to say words that he’s been dancing around for years upon years upon years, words that he’s whispered in the mirror when drunk, words that he’s implied and acknowledged but never actually fucking  _ said _ : “Eddie, I’m gay, and I really fucking love you.”

He’s met with no response, of course, but the unusual lack of nausea rising in his throat is good enough for now.

The room still feels tense, though, and even though Richie is literally the only conscious person around, he quickly falls back to deflecting and de-escalating. “So, uh, I guess there’s a little disclaimer on all of the your mom jokes. Um. Not into that. Maybe your dad, I guess? Is that a thing?”

Richie is expecting no response, isn’t even really bothering to pay attention to the lack of it at this point - but then there  _ is  _ a response.

Eddie doesn’t move, but there’s a small sound that, if ears could squint, would probably sound like snort of laughter. 

Richie’s entire body freezes up. He can’t even find enough control to yank his hand out of Eddie’s. “Uh,” he says, dropping his voice back to a whisper despite the fact that he’s been talking at a normal level for the past few minutes. “Eddie? Are you awake?”

Eddie Kaspbrak, the fucking  _ bastard,  _ blinks his eyes open and gives Richie a smile that really should be hazier considering that he’s “just waking up.”

“Uh,” Richie stammers, finally coming to his senses and pulling his hand away. “Um, hi, uh, how long have you been awake?”

Eddie slowly pushes himself up on his elbows, wincing a little in pain but covering it up with a wide, genuine smile. “Eh, long enough.”

Automatically,  _ stupidly, _ Richie’s panic-brain blurts, “I’ll show you something long enough.”  Oh, Jesus fuck, what is he even  _ thinking?  _ “I mean, uh, not -” Richie starts to stammer, “I - well, what I - it’s -”

“Richie,” Eddie interrupts, sitting up all of the way and locking eyes with Richie. “You are the most oblivious son of a bitch I know.”

Then, impossibly, Eddie leans forward, takes Richie’s face in his hands, and kisses him. And while Derry Hospital is a ridiculously cold building, Richie feels like he’s been set on fire from the inside out.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading! feedback always makes my day!


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